The Spirit of the Fellowship
by Timid Chaos
Summary: Pippin and the fellowship struggle through their journey burdened by their own troubles and Pippin's new found ones.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Any characters, names, regions, or incidents specified or  
alluded to are the property of J.R.R. Tolkein and New Line Cinema. No  
profit was made from this work.  
  
The Spirit of the Fellowship  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
Stumbling around in the dark, he ran, frantically looking for his companions. He had to warn them. Ignoring the agonizing pain in his back, he kept running, searching. Soon, he thought he saw a glimmer off to his right. [Possibly the campfire?] He dearly hoped. Running even faster, he heard the noises behind him draw closer. He began to scream.  
  
"Merry, Aragorn, help!"  
  
So distracted was he that he failed to notice that his path was blocked, and quickly found himself sprawled on the ground. His back aflame with pain, he gasped both from it and from fear. He knew that his folly was to be the death of him, but he couldn't let it be the same for his companions. Closing his eyes as his enemy drew nearer, and hoping beyond all hope that his friends could hear him, he took one last gasping breath and screamed, "Orcs!"  
  
Fainting dead away, he barely registered the form that slipped down the tree and soon ran, carrying him towards the light of the camp.  
  
Standing guard, Aragorn nodded as Legolas silently leapt into the trees. He knew his elf friend had felt uneasy ever since entering these woods, and that even now he was scouting around. For a wood elf to be uneasy when in his element was a warning in and of itself, but the nature of their mission now weighed heavily upon them all, and such warnings had to be heeded much more seriously.  
  
Looking around camp, he saw that everyone else seemed to be resting, although not easily, especially Frodo. His dreams and sleep seemed to be disturbed by dark forces, but considering what he was destined to be and do, that had to be expected. Expected yes, but pitied and feared also. Aragorn knew the nature of the ring, as did they all, yet not even Frodo truly understood its power. No one could.  
  
He quickly noticed though that Pippin had yet to return from his scavenging of foods. Granted, he hadn't been gone more than a few minutes, but knowing the hobbit's nature, he began to worry if he had wandered to far from camp, or had gotten lost.  
  
Deciding to wait a few more minuets, he was disturbed from his thoughts as he heard Merry cry out in his sleep. Rushing towards the now awake and frightened hobbit, he knelt down besides him, to see what ailed him. "What is it Merry?"  
  
Still to stunned to speak, he quickly looked at Aragon, and squeaked out, "It's Pippin. Something happened to Pippin."  
  
Jumping to his feet, Aragorn went to wake the rest of the company, but found Frodo already at the task. He turned back to Merry, and ordered him to rise and explain. The hobbit shook his head, confused, but couldn't tell what had happened, just that he felt something bad had come to pass.  
  
Knowing the connection the two hobbits had through their deep friendship and love for each other, he didn't doubt that his words were true. About to call to Legolas, his ears heard a cry off to his south a bit, and one right next to him. Pulling Sting from its scabbard, Frodo saw it's blue glow and cried the warning to all. Just then, Legolas came rushing into camp, carrying a limp form in his arms. The elf stopped only long enough to place the body on the ground, before he whirled and began firing arrows in the direction he had just come from.  
  
"Orcs," the elf called back over his shoulder. "Forty some, from the south." He continued firing his arrows, while the rest of the company quickly armed themselves.  
  
Merry ran to where his cousin had been placed, and stood guard, facing the south. Aragorn grimly noticed the other two hobbits following suit. They would have to protect their fallen friend, and themselves, and that was a deadly combination. But quickly his thoughts were distracted as the vile creatures loped into their camp.  
  
Legolas had now abandoned his bow for his knives, pulling them quickly over his shoulder and just a quickly dispatching the nearest orc of it's head. Boromir stood slightly behind and to the left of the elf, fighting off any that got past the deadly knives. Aragorn, wary of being encircled, drew off to the north side, to make sure their right rear and flank were covered.  
  
It was a good thing he did so, for before he even managed to get past the bristling group of hobbits, more orcs came crashing through the underbrush. As the man tried to draw away the biggest of the creatures, some went for the smaller ones of the fellowship. In a brief lull, Legolas saw this and managed to get off another deadly shot, before his attention was called back to his area of defense.  
  
The hobbits, arrayed around their fallen friend, held their own, although Merry, without his usual counterpart, seemed unsure of himself. This won him a minor wound on his sword arm, but the slight pain brought forth anger that even hadn't realized he had had within himself, and after a few more strikes, brought down his foe.  
  
Gimli, who had been fighting off to the rear of the company, soon found himself without enemy, and seeing that Aragorn was quickly being surrounded, went to aid his comrade. After minutes of gore, the fellowship had either dispatched or ran off the rest of the orcs. All breathing heavily, they made sure that no more attacks would occur within the next few moments, and only after securing camp once again did they turn back to the now huddled cluster of hobbits. Motioning Legolas to him, Aragorn quickly made his way over, and urgently, yet gently, forced his way between the hovering friends. He looked questioningly at the elf.  
  
His gaze concerned, the elf knelt by the downed hobbit. "He was taken by surprise, and before I could find where he was, for I heard his cry when he stumbled upon their horde, he was wounded. He must have seen our camp, for he was trying to make his way here, all the while calling out to us, warning us." The elf looked upon the hobbit with pity and respect in his eye. "He ran, Aragorn, and only fell because he couldn't see his path. His last breath was spent in a warning shout."  
  
Nodding, the man took the hobbit into his arms. He didn't appear to be breathing, but he still had a weak pulse. The arrow must have pierced a lung he surmised. He said as much. It was too much for Merry. "What, is he alive? He looks so pale, oh, how could this have happened?" He tried to get nearer, but seeing Aragorn's worried air, Gimli took Merry and the other hobbits away, so that he could distract them and give the elf and man room. Boromir kept guard, yet he listened, for he did care for the little ones, but it would be folly to be taken by surprise while trying to save one of their own.  
  
Speaking in soft tones, so as not to alarm the others, Aragorn consulted Legolas. "He lives, Legolas, yet I fear. His wound is serious in and of itself, but if this arrow is poisoned." He didn't need to explain, for the flash of fear in the elf's eyes told him how well the elf understood. "What can we do, Aragorn?"  
  
Turning the limp form over so that he could examine Pippin's chest, he had Legolas support the hobbit while he felt around the hobbit's front. His suspicion was proven true. "The arrow managed to miss his heart, which explains why he still lives, but feel here," he gently ran the elf's hand over the other's chest. Legolas's eyes widened, for he could feel the arrow point underneath the skin. That wasn't what caused his alarm though; it was the fact that he felt barbs on either side. Aragorn continued. "We'll have to push it the rest of the way through, for those barbs surly hold poison within their points.  
  
Agreeing, the elf shifted so as to better support the hobbit when he felt him stir. Oh, little one, don't awaken now he pleaded, but stubborn as ever, Pippin opened his eyes. As memories, pain, and panic overtook him, his eyes widened, and he began to struggle, but found he hadn't the energy to put up much fight. Legolas soothing the little one, speaking softly in elvish and brushing his hand against Pippin's forehead. Calmed, he tried to speak, but when he inhaled, a wave of pain and dizziness swept over him.  
  
Seeing this, Aragorn quickly ordered him to not speak. "I wish you had stayed unconscious, for we're going to have to rid your body of this arrow Pippin, if you are to survive." A fearful and understanding gaze was all he got in return. Now that he was awake, he wished to dull the pain for him as much as possible, so he called to Frodo to get the heated water, which had somehow managed to keep upon the fire during their battle, and bring it over. He asked Legolas to bring him his bag, and soon he had both water and bag. Pulling some leaves out of a small, tan packet, he soaked them into water, and had Pippin drink it, saying it would dull the pain. Gratefully, the hobbit took his first drink with the elf's help, and making a face, quickly finished it off.  
  
Minutes later, satisfied that the herb had taken as much effect as it possibly could, he explained to Pippin what he and Legolas were to do. Fearful as Pippin was of the pain, he trusted both with his life, and simply nodded, closing his eyes. He only winced, and held back a cry while Legolas swiftly broke off the shaft in the back, only leaving enough to be able to push through so that Aragorn could pull from the front.  
  
Barbed as the arrow was, both knew that the poison was seeping into the little one's body, even as they waited, but neither wished to cause him anymore pain. Both were surprised when they heard his raspy, pain filled voice plead, "Please."  
  
Needing no more, their gazes met over Pippin's head, and soon the hobbit found himself on his knees, with Legolas behind and Aragorn to his front. He tried to relax as he felt them maneuver around him. He whimpered as he felt Legolas place his hand on the shaft.  
  
Across camp, Sam, Frodo, and Merry watched in horror as they saw what the two had to do to poor Pippin, feeling sick. Merry began to tremble, and Gimli held him close, worried that he might run to his friend's aid, distracting the two healers. Boromir looked away, having seen this done before, in the battlefield.  
  
Before he could think anymore of it, Legolas nodded to Aragorn and shoved the arrow straight through the hobbit's body, as steadily and forcefully as possible. As soon as it appeared through the little one's chest, the man grasped it and continued it along its path, pulling it the rest of the way through, and free of the hobbit's flesh.  
  
The scream of pure anguish that ripped forth from the hobbit could have made even the orcs fear the same agony. 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
  
"Pip!" screaming, Merry desperately broke free of the dwarf who had previously been holding him back and ran to his cousin. The other two quickly followed, with Gimli in tow. "Pip!"  
  
He reached the two as they gently sat the hobbit back down, so as to dress his wounds. Falling to his knees, tears glistening upon his cheeks, Merry grabbed hold of Pippin's hand. Amazingly, if unfortunately, Pippin remained awake. Aragorn and Legolas shared a look. To remain awake through such an ordeal was rare, to remain awake after was unheard of. These little ones really do have strength. Looking back down, he saw in Merry's eyes another aspect of the hobbits; anger.  
  
Still holding his friend's hand, he glared at the man and elf, mustering as much control as he could, "Why did you do that, why did you not pull it out, why did you hurt him, you're supposed to protect him." In his rage, he failed to notice that Pippin was still awake. His gaze quickly dropped when he felt the hand in his tighten. "Don't"  
  
Legolas quickly hushed the wounded hobbit. It wouldn't do for him to strain himself, simply because he didn't want his friends to be angry. He could understand Merry's pain, for he had noticed the relationship between the two early in their travels, but that didn't give him the right to endanger Pippin's health any more than it already was. Even now, although conscious, all of the little one's weight rested between the two healers, and he seemed to be quickly fading.  
  
Noticing that Aragorn seemed to not want to confront the little ones, he spoke. "Merry, that arrow was barbed. We weren't able to pull it out, for we would risk it breaking off before it could be removed, and doing even more damage even if removed, while being pulled out." Glancing at Aragorn, he caught the man's gaze and both nodded. "And, we think that it was poisoned."  
  
"Oh, no." Frodo said this, and the simple horror and guilt in his eyes made Boromir wince. This was Frodo's journey, and the rest were his protectors. That the youngest of them had fallen while protecting him weighed heavily on his shoulders. Sensing the same, Sam rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, if he hadn't warned us, we would have overrun, and we all could have been injured."  
  
"Wise words, Sam. But we must finish dressing his wound." Gimli quickly caught on to Aragorn's unspoken command, and herded the three remaining hobbits away, and to distract them, set them about cleaning the camp. Their battle had been relatively brief, but had resulted in a fair share of damaged and carnage.  
  
Still sitting between the two, Pippin wheezed, trying to say something. Again the elf brushed his hand against his forehead, to sooth, and check for fever. He was relieved when the heat he felt wasn't more than expected with such a wound. Having Aragorn support him, Legolas quickly made work of the rest of the hobbit's tunic, to check for any other wounds. Not having the elf's vision, Aragorn suggested moving closer to the fire, also to warm Pippin, for he had begun to tremble from shock.  
  
Gently picking up their wounded companion, both heard the gasp of pain, but soon had him besides the fire. "Pippin, we need to check the wound for infection," he left unsaid that he was also checking for any signs of toxins, but they all understood. Nodding, Pippin again closed his eyes and tried to relax. All he wanted to do was sleep, for the pain was unbearable, and he was exhausted. Sensing his friend's waning strength, Aragorn turned to the elf.  
  
"Legolas, bring me some more water, and some cloth." Seeing the urgency in the man's eyes, he quickly returned with said materials, along with more herbs. Nodding his thanks, but saying nothing, Aragorn placed the hobbit into Legolas's arms, so as to check the wound in his chest. The wound they had created. Seeing that the flesh around the injury was slightly inflamed, but not dangerously so, he gently began cleaning away any grime. This elicited a slight cry, but nothing more. He dreaded what he had to do next. "Legolas, turn him over."  
  
Biting his lip so as not to cry out, for that would show weakness, and he wanted to be brave, Pippin let the elf gently place him in his lap. He still couldn't breath well and soon found that with his face down he couldn't at all. Panicking, he tried to push himself up, but had no strength. Both his healers noticed his struggle and lifted him once again.  
  
"Can you not breath?" Still short of breath, he only nodded, but quickly stopped when the dizziness got worse.  
  
Casting a worried glance at the man from behind Pippin, Legolas began inspecting the entrance wound. His eyes widened at what he saw. Angry line spread, fan-like out from around the wound, meaning.  
  
He tried to remain calm, but the fact that the poison was spreading so quickly scared him. To lose Pippin would be a horrible loss for all, but the other three would be devastated. Aragorn quickly caught on to the problem, and instructed Pippin to stand still, so he could get a look at the wound. Not wanting to worry the already agonizing hobbit, he had given him some more of the numbing water while Legolas had checked the wound.  
  
By the light of the flames, he quickly saw what had panicked the elf, and he too felt alarm. Even as he watched, the poisoned lines seemed to spread. The wound was between the hobbit's shoulder blades, but the lines had spread as far as his shoulders and mid back. Blood poisoning was his only thought.  
  
Not hearing anything from the two, Pippin, through his haze, began to worry. Again he tried to talk, but found that the pain and lack of air still prevented it. He had assumed that the arrow had pierced his lung, for although young and innocent, he wasn't dumb or naïve. He knew that the wound was dangerous, and the pain enough to weaken him for many days, but he also knew that such wounds were common on the battlefield. Then again, orcs weren't.  
  
He shuddered as he remembered, and the two behind him felt it. Worried that he might be feinting, Legolas took a tighter grip on the young one. They had to address the wound itself, before the poison, for it still bled somewhat. Hoping that the drink had taken enough effect, the man cleaned the wound, and inspected it, looking for any signs of immediate infection. He found them, and so added more salve, hoping to stop it, and possibly the poison, from spreading. Until they figured out the nature of the poison, they could only treat the symptoms.  
  
Darkly, Aragorn reflected that one seemed to be that Pippin was unable to pass out, for even now he still stood awake, even if swaying from weakness and pain. Now that his wounds were covered, they attempted to place him on his back, but with a cry of pain, they soon had him back up on his knees. The other's around camp, long since done with their duties, sat away from the three, to give them room, but watched with worried hearts and troubled minds.  
  
Addressing the man in elvish, Legolas commented, "If he cannot rest on back nor front, and side will most likely result in a similar reaction, is he to kneel the entire time?"  
  
Running a hand through his hair, Aragorn mumbled to himself, debating. The hobbit needed his rest, but if not able to lie on the ground. "I would have to guess so Legolas. Possibly, after tonight, the wound will have healed enough for him to lie back down. It's his breathing that I'm worried about. It missed his heart, but his lung has been pierced, though by the sounds of his breaths, has not collapsed." Also speaking in elvish, the prince of man consulted with the prince of elves.  
  
Seeing the obvious answer, the elf agreed, "Of course I will stay with him. You need to go check the arrow of its poison so we can make its antidote. If not, rest will not be Pippin's problem."  
  
Nodding in agreement, he decided to tell the hobbit of his condition, so not to leave him any more panicked. Returning to the common language, he knelt before the little one, and gently lifted his head. Meeting his pain- filled gaze, he began to explain. "Pippin, your wound is serious, but."  
  
"Poisoned. The arrow." he closed his eyes against the pain, but kept going, "It was poisoned." Stunned that he had figured out so soon, Aragorn simply nodded. "Since to lie down pains you, you shall have to sleep against Legolas tonight. We're hoping that by tomorrow you will be able to lie down again."  
  
But Pippin shook his head. "I cannot sleep."  
  
"You must, to regain your strength." Not in the mood for stubbornness, he didn't realize that the hobbit wasn't being stubborn, but simply stating a fact. Legolas on the other hand did. "What do you mean by that? And don't speak more than necessary."  
  
"I'm not strong. When you pushed.I was passing out, but I couldn't. When you lifted me, I couldn't. I want to, oh, I want to, but I can't." At this, for the first time, tears began to roll down his face. He couldn't cry, because he couldn't breath, but his pain could show itself.  
  
Oh, Pippin. Aragorn lowered his gaze, sorry that he had assumed that he had been being stubborn. He met those desperate eyes, and knew of the agony the young one was feeling, but to be unable to escape such torment.had to be torture. When wounded, he oftentimes welcomed the blackness, for within its embrace, pain was less or null, but to be denied even that little bliss, "Don't worry, you will be fine." Hoping his voice conveyed the confidence he didn't have, he got up and went over to pick up the arrow, so as to analyze its toxins.  
  
Legolas, sitting, took the little one into his arms, letting him rest his head back against his chest, all the while remaining on his knees. It seemed the only position that the hobbit could bare. To say that he was stunned by Pippin's words would have been an understatement, but all that mattered was that he rested as best as possible. He began to sing to him softly, hoping to sooth away the pain and worry as well as he could.  
  
Hearing the elf sing, the other hobbits kept a close eye on the two forms, while also watching Aragorn, as he took up the arrow and began looking at it. Even from across the camp they could see it was indeed barbed, and the glistening drops still forming on the tips. They all hoped, as morbid as it seemed, that those drops were of Pippin's blood, and not something more sinister.  
  
Not a single member wanted to rest while their companion was hurting so, but soon found that their worry and battle had drained them of their energy, and all but the man, elf, and wounded hobbit found themselves again in restless slumber. 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3  
  
It was morning, and although none of the company felt much like moving on, even while supporting Pippin, Legolas had sensed their danger growing closer. "We must move out of these woods, and quickly." Knowing that their elf friend wouldn't make such a statement without great need, they took heed and quickly set about leaving camp.  
  
Aragorn had spent the entire night trying to figure out the nature of the poison, but it was foreign to him. Neither he, the elf, nor Pippin had seen any sleep during the night, and although they all looked worn, Pippin's appearance worried him the most.  
  
His pale face was drawn taut from pain and exhaustion, his breathing didn't seem any better, and upon inspection, his preventive measures had stopped neither the infection nor the poison from spreading. This flesh around the entrance wound was swollen and sticky with infection, and the angry lines spread over his shoulder to his chest, and down his back below his waist. The shock seemed to have past, which was a good thing, but without its pain blocking effects, Pippin was feeling every bit of his wound and his poisoning. After discussing it with Legolas, they had decided not to bring up the fact that he was poisoned, unless directly confronted, for he didn't want to worry the rest of the company. And not knowing how they were to rid his body of the toxin, they could only continue to watch him closely, and treat the symptoms.  
  
While the rest made to break camp, Aragorn replaced Legolas as support for Pippin, so that he could stretch his legs, and asked him to make up some more herb water to help with the discomfort. Even in his pain-filled haze, Pippin managed to make a face showing his dislike of the herbs, and Aragorn had to chuckle. At least he knew that some of Pippin remained, even in his condition. He decided to let Legolas lead the company, for he knew of the dangers and could lead them around any traps and such. They were in not condition to fight off any more attacks, and wanted to avoid any more troubles, at least until they got out of the forest.  
  
When ready to set out, Aragorn gently picked up the wounded hobbit, and carried him as if a sleeping child. But this little one couldn't sleep, thanks to his poison. He had never heard of such a reaction to a toxin, but with Saruman, he guessed anything new and disgusting had to be expected.  
  
They traveled for many hours, not once stopping for a rest. Once the medicine had worn off, Pippin had once again began feeling the creeping fire spreading through his body, but kept silent. There was nothing they could do, and whining would only cause more problems, so he tried to hide his discomfort.  
  
Aragorn, holding him as he was, could feel every grimace and silent groan, and wondered if they should stop, even if just to make some more medicine, but a shout from ahead caught his attention. He could see Boromir up ahead, beginning to run in the direction in which Legolas was pointing. The hobbits quickly followed, while Legolas and Gimli fell back to run alongside Aragorn.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"More dark forces, but I'm not sure of their nature. Just keep running."  
  
Together, the three figures quickly caught up with the other four, and sooner than expected, they broke free of the woods. Finding themselves now on the open plain, they could see the orcs behind them, firing arrows and such at their retreating forms, but not willing to leave their warren. Once out of weapons range, and free from pursuit, they slowed back to a walk. None seemed the worse for wear, but they were tired, and the dark of night was closing in, so it was decided that they would make camp near some rock formations a few minutes away.  
  
Once they had reached their destination, Boromir quickly went about setting up their perimeter. With Aragorn busy taking care of Pippin, it had fallen to him to become head protector, and he took that responsibility seriously. He did not grudge the other man his duty now as caretaker for the wounded companion. Going back to his job at hand, he made sure that their back and left side were secure, because the rocks, and the other two sides were open enough that they could see an attack long before it was upon them. Assured now that they were relatively safe, considering their circumstances, he went to speak with Gimli about watches. He knew that Aragorn and Legolas hadn't slept last night, and he didn't want them to drop from exhaustion. He said so to Gimli.  
  
"I agree Boromir, but it'll be hard to get them to comply. Look at them, even now." Motioning towards the two larger forms huddled over the smaller, with three other small forms looking on from a safe distance, he continued. "Even if you do, we don't know what is happening with Pippin. I believe it high time that we were all alerted to his status."  
  
Nodding, Boromir decided to ask once everyone had eaten, hoping for better spirits. He went over to Sam, and asked him get dinner ready. Glad for the distraction, and hungry nonetheless, Merry and Frodo went to help Sam prepare their meal.  
  
Once they had made their meal, Frodo called the rest over to the fire. Making sure Pippin was up to it, Legolas carried him over to sit among the rest of them. Merry, seeing this, quickly took his seat next to his cousin, letting Pippin lay against his side. It was still too uncomfortable for him to lie down, as they had found out earlier. Legolas worried that he didn't seem to be getting any better. The wound hadn't healed, and it was draining the poor hobbit, and the poison and infection seemed only to be getting worse. He sat on the other side of the hobbit, just in case, and gratefully took the plate from Sam, and ate. Although elves didn't need the same rest and sustenance as the hobbits and men, he still was weary and hungry. He was going to need his strength tonight, as it seemed to be a repeat of last night after the attack. Worried greatly about Pippin, he didn't notice Boromir speaking until he felt Pippin stir besides him.  
  
Aragorn, sitting on the other side of the elf, began speaking, apparently answering Boromir's question, but quickly looked up at Pippin. Besides Merry, Pippin met his gaze, and after a moment, gave a slight nod. Aragorn retuned the look and continued, "Yes, the arrow was poisoned, but by what we know not. It doesn't seem to be causing any more damage than the initial wound," at this Pippin grimaced, but none besides the elf noticed, "But the wound is not healing."  
  
Merry turned, shocked, to the form leaning against him. When this close, he could actually feel Pip's labored breaths, and with nothing else to do, took his hand in his. "Pip, my dear Pip." Unable to speak, both from injury and guilt, Pippin just tried to tuck in as close to Merry as possible, without aggravating his back or chest.  
  
Silence settled over the fellowship, and they finished their meal, all deep in thought. Gimli looked around the group, seeing different emotions raging. In Frodo, he saw guilt, for he felt responsible for all of them, even though they had willingly volunteered. Sam, sitting besides Frodo as always looked troubled, for he considered Pippin a friend, but he also kept casting worried gazes in Frodo's direction, even if the later didn't notice. Boromir on the other hand kept his gaze directed more away from the group, wary of attack. Gimli knew that the man cared for the little hobbit, but he also had responsibility over the rest of the fellowship. After losing Gandalf, he took his responsibilities with even more zest, especially since Aragorn now had his attention more on Pippin.  
  
This brought his gaze upon the man, sitting besides the elf. His face read nothing. But knowing Aragorn for who and what he was, Gimli looked into his eyes, and saw past the mental block, into the true turmoil of his mind and emotions. Aragorn was worried, scared, for Pippin, and it angered him that he knew not how to help. Not wanted to delve any deeper, for he wasn't sure exactly what he would find, he moved on to the elf. There, he saw the same emotions, only the elf actually looked worn by the ordeal. Elves were strong, stronger than man in some cases, but whatever was ailing the poor hobbit was felt deeply by the elf. He kept close to the little one at all times. Seeing that Pippin had lifted his head from Merry's shoulder, he met his gaze steadily. What he saw slightly frightened him. Those eyes, usually full of merriment, were now dark, dull with pain and suffering unknown to him. Merry seemed in a similar state, only his pain was not physical, but emotional, for the two shared a sacred bond, and what one felt the other experienced in part. By the time he had gone around, the rest had finished their meal, and were getting ready for bed. Legolas once again picked up Pippin, allowing Merry to follow, and Aragorn went to his pack to get some more herbs.  
  
I'm glad he sat with the rest, for although he didn't eat, hopefully Merry and the others gave him some strength. He then went over to where Legolas had sat Pippin down, under an outcropping. The weather, he had noticed, seemed to gathering in a foul mood, and if rain should come, he didn't want the little one to get chilled. Already his pain fever had broken, only to be replaced with a chill that was most unnatural. Aragorn by this time had joined them, and seeing now that Merry knew of the wound's nature, neither saw any harm in letting him stay as they re-dressed his wound. When they had pulled off Pippin's tunic, Merry let out a small gasp, and could only stare. Pippin's back, once so fair and flawless, now was swollen and discolored, with angry lines tracing their way through his skin and around his torso. By this time, even though Aragorn had tried to stop the spread, the lines had reached the front of his chest, and all seemed to converge on one single spot. All met up over his heart.  
  
Seeing his friends anguish at his wound, Pippin called for him to come over. The two behind him, one supporting, and other inspecting, were consulting quietly in elvish, so unable to understand them, and knowing they would tell him later, Pippin only felt the need to have his friend nearby. Soon, the two hobbits were sitting together, with Pippin leaning against Merry besides him. Every time Legolas, as it was the man who was supporting him, pressed on a sort spot, Pippin would bite his lip, trying to hold back his cries. He couldn't stop them all from escaping, and soon found embarrassing tears falling down his cheeks again. He didn't want Merry to see him in such a state, but he was so exhausted and in so much pain, that he couldn't stop.  
  
His heart wrenching at seeing his dear one in such pain, Merry simply held close to Pip, speaking softly and stroking his head, letting the other one cry as the elf and man continued their work. After what seemed like hours, the two lifted the wounded hobbit from Merry's arms, and carried him to the fire, Merry in tow.  
  
As Legolas finished dressing the wound, and quickly put a clean tunic on Pippin, Aragorn turned to Merry. "Merry, as you saw, the poison has spread throughout his body. We still do not know it's nature, but so far it only seems to keep him from healing properly." He refrained from telling him that it also kept the little one from falling asleep, for although Legolas had alerted him to Pippin's response during dinner, both deemed it unnecessary to alarm the others anymore than they already were. "What he needs now is rest. By the looks of the others," he motioned towards Sam and Frodo, who, when caught eves dropping, quickly turned away, "they are just as concerned as you. Why don't you go and let them know that Pippin is doing all right."  
  
Visibly torn between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do, he hesitated before nodding and heading off towards the other two. Aragorn watched him for a moment, again somewhat in awe of the little hobbit. Although small, the hobbits showed strength of friendship and loyalty that was seen in very few as of late. He turned around, he returned to Legolas' side.  
  
"Pippin, my friend, how do you fare?"  
  
His face drawn taught, he could only look at Aragorn. His breathing seemed just as labored, now besides the wound, his whole body now felt enflamed, but internally. He knew it was the poison at work, but he knew it was not going to kill him. Not able to explain it, he kept trying to figure out what its purpose was. Am I simply to suffer for all eternity, never able to escape such torment? He mentally shook away such thoughts, for they would do him no good. Morbidity wouldn't do him a bit of good, but even though his mind kept telling him so, his heart and soul felt differently.  
  
"Pippin, I know it pains you to speak, but you must respond. Are you faring any better?" The desperation in the man's voice broke through his thoughts. Summoning a painful breath, he responded. "I will be fine." He knew it was a lie, as did the elf, as did the man, but all three let it rest there. It was at that moment that Boromir came running back into camp.  
  
"Under the darkness, the orcs have decided to move. They are coming from the woods, we must leave now."  
  
Scrambling up, Aragorn quickly ordered the company to collect what little they had, and to move out. He turned around to find that Legolas already had Pippin in his arms, and was arming himself as best he could with his burden. Within a few minuets of Boromir's warning, they were off again, running across the fields. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, they only encourage me to upload faster ^_~ I have the entire story written, I'm simply editing as I upload the chapters, 7 total, so I hope you all stay with me.  
  
In response to one review, this is set after Moria but whether its before or after Lothlorien is up to the reader, since it's slightly AU already. I'd say later, but whatever floats your boat. Enough of me, on with the story!!!  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
Carried as he was, Pippin could do little more than stay silent. He hated having to be held as such, and the herb medicine had long worn off, but he no longer groaned. The pain was such a part of his life that he barely could remember a time when not in pain. In the elf's arms, he felt the wind rushing by, but it did nothing to cool his heated pain, nor did it freeze the sweat that was upon his skin. He seemed unaffected by such outside forces. He was aware of them, but not touched by them. Wondering what it could possibly mean, he heard the voices of their attackers clearly now, for they had seen the fellowship fleeing, and had raced to catch up. Now they were within arrow distance, and closing. Legolas, was behind Boromir, who was leading the way, with Gimli and the hobbits following in front of the elf, and Aragorn bringing up the rear. All to soon Pippin heard the whistles of incoming arrows. He stifled a groan as he felt the elf lurch and stumble, but they remained upright and running. It was dark, and he could see other's ahead jumping around cracks in the ground, but they're movements were slow and oftentimes they were caught unawares. He saw Frodo stumble, but as always Sam was by his side, and together they kept going. They should be able to keep on their feet, even in this dark, especially the elf. Then, with wide eyes, he realized the truth. It was his fault. They would never be on the run like this if he hadn't been wounded. They never would have been exhausted, if they hadn't been taking care of him. None would be stumbling around in the dark if they had had unworried rest. It was all his fault.  
  
He closed his eyes, for the truth of it hurt almost deeper than his wounds. He was going to be the death of them all. Then he noticed that the elf's breathing became labored, as his own. He opened his eyes, and seeing the pain etched in the elf's face, he knew something was wrong. It was unlike an elf to become winded, even when running as quickly as they were. "Legolas?"  
  
The elf kept silent, and focused on running. He heard the little voice against his chest, but couldn't take the time to answer. As they ran, he knew that as tired as they all were, they would soon be overrun. "Aragorn, we must fight."  
  
Knowing the elf's words to be true, he turned to respond, then saw, to his horror, an arrow pierced through the elf's side. "Legolas, you."  
  
The elf shot his words down with a look, and Aragorn knew that he would live for the moment. "We must stand, or else be overrun."  
  
Boromir, hearing the elf's words also, slowed, then finally stopped, and together with the smaller forms behind him, went to join the rest of his companions. Frodo was first to notice the elf's condition. "Legolas."  
  
He never got to finish his sentence, for at that moment an arrow came flying directly through their small group, catching Merry in the arm before imbedding itself in the ground. Merry, for his part, cried out little, but his hiss of pain was enough to give everyone pause. "I will be fine."  
  
Pippin, hearing every word, and every unfinished sentence, felt his guilt rising. Here they were, exhausted, weary, beaten, all because of him. He felt himself being placed on the ground, again on his knees. He did the only thing he could think of. "Give me a weapon."  
  
Stunned at his words, Aragorn turned to the little one on the ground. Seeing the hunched form, he was about to refuse, when Gimli shot him a look, and promptly handed the hobbit one of his knives. His ax was his primary weapon, and he preferred it greatly over any other, but he always carried other blades, in case his ax was broken, or the fighting became to close to safely use it. "Here Pippin, use it well."  
  
Nodding his thanks, he held the knife in front of him. It was usable, but unwieldy, but he had nothing else. Quickly, the other's had to turn and face their enemies, before being overrun.  
  
Orcs for their part weren't intelligent, and so they all came together, tightly packed, and didn't try to surround the party at first. Legolas was already taking down quite a number with his arrows, as was Boromir. Aragorn, Gimli, and the rest of the hobbits held back until the orcs broke through, and then attacked with such violence that even the orcs were taken aback. Here they had thought they could win an easy battle, but the resistance being forced upon them was much greater. Desperation drove the fellowship to almost madness. Sam and Frodo, together as always, worked as a team to bring down many of the orcs, managing to avoid most of their deadly strikes. Gimli and the injured Merry stood together, and fought well. Aragorn fought with the passion of a trained warrior, who had nothing to lose. Boromir and Legolas, both running low on arrows, carefully placed their last deadly bolts into the largest targets, then took up their knives and swords and attacked with fury.  
  
The attacking orcs this time were greater in number, if only slightly. Not as cunning as the last group, it took many minutes for any of them to notice the easy target on the ground. Once they did, many diverged on it, hoping for easy prey. What they found was a very pissed hobbit.  
  
Beyond pain, beyond reason, Pippin mustered all his strength, and launched himself at the closest attacking orc, bringing it to his knees, then killing it with a stab through its heart. He dropped to one knee, utterly spent, and knew that he could do no more. He managed to block the attack from the front, but he never saw the swing of blade coming at his neck.  
  
Blocking the forward blow, he was knocked off balance and fell, his arm rising to regain some balance, and the side attack was blocked from its intended target, and instead cut deeply into Pippin's wrist. He didn't feel a thing. Not noticing his wound, he took up the knife again, in his other hand, as that was his stronger side, and disemboweled the foul creature. Turning, he found another two orcs running at him, and managed to take one down before the other landed solid kick, lifting the hobbit into the air. He landed on his side, thankfully, and the orc advanced, hoping to repeat the move, which he thought comical. The orc never made it, for soon its head was flying through the air, instead of the hobbit. As the body dropped, Pippin saw Boromir look at him to make sure he survived, then returned to the fight.  
  
Acting out of pure instinct, Pippin somehow managed to pull himself up again to his knees, ready for another attack. Now he was facing Legolas, who after Boromir's rescue, was alone. The orcs especially hated the beauty of the elf, and took advantage of the lonely figure. Through the din of battle, Pippin heard the elf cry out and saw him fall to his knees as something seemed to be torn out from his side. He couldn't make it out, but before he could get a better look, he caught movement behind him, so he stabbed his knife upwards, and felt it connect solidly with flesh. Feeling blood drip down his arm, he viciously twisted the knife, and tore it from the orc's body above him. The creature fell, and landed besides the hobbit, dead. The battle seemed to be slowing, and with a few final cries of pain and anger, the company managed to take down the last of their attackers.  
  
Merry, having only received a few minor wounds besides his arrow cut, frantically began searching for his cousin. He found him, alone, with bodies of dead orcs strewn around him. He managed to defend himself, in his state? Amazed, he quickly dropped to his knees to see if Pip was injured any more so than he already was. "I am fine, I am not hurt." He held up his arms, as if to ward of any comments that Merry might make, when he heard a gasp and felt his arm being taken by his cousin. "And this, THIS is not a wound?"  
  
Looking at his arm, he finally noticed that his wrist was deeply cut, and freely bleeding. Yet he felt nothing. Honestly shocked, he could only shake his head. "I, I did not know."  
  
Angry, with battle rage still burning through his veins, Merry was about to again yell at the Took's obvious lie, but when he looked at him, he saw only confusion. Could he really not have known? "How could you ignore this, Pip? This is serious, Aragorn must take care of it." With those words, he began calling to Aragorn, who quickly got up from taking a look at Gimli's minor wounds, and came over. "Aragorn, Pippin says he can not feel this injury, but look at it. Tis serious."  
  
Taking the proffered arm, he found himself looking at a gash that reached the bones of the little ones wrist, but he felt no resistance to his probing. "Pippin, you honestly can not feel the pain?"  
  
Again not able to speak due to his injured lung, he only shook his head. Aragorn was about to call out for the elf to come over to help him, when he remembered that Legolas had been struck by an arrow even before battle. He grabbed some cloth from his bag, and ordered Merry to staunch the flow of blood, until he could return. Seeing the sudden change in his behavior, Merry didn't argue.  
  
For once not noticing the hobbit's silence, he hurried over to where he had last seen the elf. He found that Boromir was already knelt by the downed elf. He quickly joined the other man. "Legolas, where is the arrow?"  
  
On one knee, the elf winced, but his eyes still held their spark. "An orc kindly removed it for me."  
  
Grimacing at such a though, he inquired whether there were any other injuries on the elf, but stubborn as he knew Legolas was, he wasn't surprised by the negative response. "But where is Pippin?" The elf cast a concerned look at the men, and without their help got to his feet, albeit unsteadily. Aragorn placed a calming hand on the elf's arm. "He is wounded, but lives. It seems he actually held off some orcs alone." Boromir quickly added, "He did indeed, for only once did I come to his aid."  
  
Surprised, the elf walked with the two back to where the hobbits and dwarf now surrounded Pippin and Merry. They could hear Sam asking the same question on all their minds. "How are you able to not feel that wound?" He himself had taken a few hits, and was bleeding from quite a few of those cuts, but seemed too concerned to have noticed. Frodo, who was in a similar state, also seemed oblivious to his injuries. It was Gimli who brought their conditions to their attention, only after he had tried to maneuver Frodo out of the way to get to Merry, and had felt the hobbit wince and tense. Soon, he had taken the two away from the others and was cleaning their wounds with some borrowed supplies of Aragorn's. He knew that the man wouldn't mind, considering the circumstances.  
  
The elf, as usual, stubbornly ignored Aragorn's insistence that his wound be looked at, until he could check and see how Pippin was. He hadn't been able to stand guard over the little one as he had planned, for there had simply been to many, and now he felt guilty that Pippin had been injured. "Let me see your arm."  
  
Removing the cloth that Merry had been pressing onto his wrist, he saw the grievous injury, and quickly looked to see if the hobbit was in any more pain. When he noticed that Pippin merely looked on calmly, he shot a warning look at Aragorn and Boromir. Taking the hint, Boromir ordered Merry to come with him so he could see to his arm, and any other injury he had received during battle. Resisting at first, not wanting to leave his best friend, he only left after practically being dragged away by the man towards the rest of the fellowship, leaving Legolas, Aragorn, and Pippin alone once more.  
  
Aragorn now knelt besides the elf, hoping to get a better look at the injury. He hadn't meant to leave the hobbit in such a state, but his worry over his elven friend had overcome him, and it seemed Pippin understood this, for he didn't show any anger or resistance. "Pippin, I know you do not want to worry us, but you must be honest, does this wound pain you?"  
  
"No."  
  
Legolas shook his head, and muttered, "It must be the poison. Pippin, does your chest wound still pain you?"  
  
Now that he thought about it, he was surprised to find it didn't, although he still labored to breath. Seeing his reaction, the two guessed that he wasn't. "Pippin, this wound is serious, and will require care, for although it doesn't pain you, it is severe. It will take time to care for. I must see to the others, and seeing as it is not bothering you, will you allow me treat you last? Just keep pressure on it, the bleeding has already slowed, so you'll be ok for a bit. "  
  
"Of course." He knew that this whole ordeal was his fault, but he tried to hide such thoughts from the other two, for he had begun thinking of a plan which they would not approve of.  
  
Motioning for Legolas to stay, he left the hobbit and went to the others, and soon he found himself treating many minor, yet painful wounds. Gimli had received little more than a solid bruise on his thigh, which would make walking sore, but not impossible. Sam and Frodo both had their fair share of cuts and bruises, but none seemed to serious and he didn't see any sign of infections, so he cleaned and bandaged what he needed to. Merry though had seemed to get the worse of the attack. The arrow, which had caught his arm before the battle had left a deep gash, cutting into flesh and muscles, both of which would need stitches. He had also received shallow claw wounds across his abdomen and his chest, that looked to already be infected. He cleaned the wounds as best he could, bandaging his torso and supporting the bandage over his shoulder so it wouldn't loosen over the next few days, then went to work on stitching up the arm wound. Merry managed to keep his cries to himself, but those closest to him could hear his whimpers, for he refused to take any of the herbs which he felt might be needed later for more serious injuries.  
  
Tending his own side, hoping that Aragorn would let him be, Legolas sat besides Pippin. The little one still wheezed, but the pain that had dulled his eyes seemed to have faded slightly, if only to be replaced by something else. Not sure as to the thoughts inside his head, Legolas tried to get the little one to speak, but only found forced answers. Perplexed, he saw that Aragorn was returning to them, so he quickly finished his ministering. His elvish abilities would heal the wound quick enough, as they both knew, but before he say so, the man already had the elf's tunic off. "Don't resist me, Legolas, it would be a bad example for the others." The man gave him a slight grin, and knowing he would lose this battle, the elf gave in.  
  
The man saw that indeed the elf's healing abilities were already at work, for the bleeding had stopped, but the wound was deep, and had to painful. He tested out his theory, and the slight intake of breath assured him that he was correct. The arrow had seemed to miss any vital organ, but he feared that it had been poisoned. Not having the arrow to look at, he could only hope that it hadn't been.  
  
Sensing his friend's train of thought, Legolas quickly tried to put his friend's mind at ease. "From what I could tell, it wasn't barbed." Giving a wry smile, he almost laughed at the expression on the man's face. He hated it when his thoughts and emotions could be read. Then both sobered when they heard a slight cough besides them.  
  
"Pippin, now let me see that wrist."  
  
"It's fine, it doesn't hurt. The other's will need those bandages sooner or later."  
  
Not pleased at all by the little one's words, Aragorn gave him a stern look. "Now don't be talking in such manners. It is selfish, now give me your arm."  
  
Pippin gave up, and let the man begin stitching his arm. He never made a noise, keeping his head down. The wound was indeed serious, and took many stitches, but with Aragorn's training, and the elf's help, it was soon completed. The elf lifted the hobbit's chin, so that he was forced to look in his eye. "Pippin, you are at no fault here. We all understood the danger of this journey when we agreed to come along. Frodo has been blaming himself, and I have heard even you try to tell him otherwise. Listen to your own words, Pippin, for they are true." With that, he gently brushed away the hair from the hobbits eyes, and the two left the hobbit alone for the moment, knowing that Merry would see that they were done and return to his cousin's side.  
  
As the two returned, without Pippin, Merry did just that. He walked over to Pippin, and simply sat besides him. He was slightly surprised when Pippin didn't lean into him, but thinking that the other was worried about his arm, he quickly tried to assure him that the wound was not serious, and was feeling much better.  
  
Hearing Merry speak of his injury, Pippin felt his anger rising, as well as his resolve. "I'm sorry, for everything."  
  
Not expecting that, Merry gave him an odd look. "What are you sorry for?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
"What is there to be sorry for?"  
  
Silence. Pippin again gave up fighting. But Merry wasn't about to let it go. "Pippin, there is nothing to be sorry for. I don't understand this, maybe it's the poison, maybe."  
  
"Yes, yes, it is the poison. But I am the poison."  
  
"What!?"  
  
Silence again. He didn't feel like fighting.  
  
Now angered, if only because of his worry, he grabbed Pippin by he shoulders and shook him. "Stop it, don't say that."  
  
Noticing the two, Frodo got up to see if something was wrong, when he felt Legolas restrain him. "Let them be, they need to work this out." Seeing the truth of these words, he sat back down.  
  
Aragorn also noted how Merry was now shaking Pippin, but he also remained where he was, knowing that two were the best healing for each other at the moment.  
  
"Pippin, my dear Pip, listen to me. You have not a single thing to be sorry about. You are hurt, you are poisoned. You have no control over such things. Please, don't do this to yourself."  
  
Pippin agreed that he had no control over those things. But he did have control over others. He didn't like seeing Merry so upset, but he just couldn't fake that he was fine. He felt empty, as if the toxins running through his body had dissolved away his inner being. He no long was Peregrin Took, the happy, young, innocent hobbit, but rather an empty shell, bringing death and pain to those he cared for. But he still didn't like seeing his friend in pain, so he tried to seem sincere. "Ok. I, I was just feeling.sorry for myself." He again felt his breath being lost, but he tried to keep the sincere facade on his face.  
  
Knowing that his friend was unable to speak well, Merry did the only thing he could think of. He took Pippin into his arms, and held him, as closely as possible. He ignored the fire that such movement sent through his arm, and tried his hardest to show how much he cared for Pippin. He loved him, more than he would admit, but at this moment, it didn't matter, for he could sense that his Pippin, the one hobbit he truly felt secure and safe around, was dying. Maybe not in body, but in spirit, and that scared him more than anything he had yet encountered. He was not willing to lose his friend, his companion, because of stupid needless guilt. Without realizing it, he mumbled his thoughts into to Pippin's ear. "I love you to much to lose you."  
  
And with those words, Pippin knew what he had to do. It was unfair, evil, for his life to endanger those who loved him so. He didn't move, or struggle, simply laid there in his friend's lap, thinking. I love you, my dearest Meriadoc.  
  
(*)(*)(*)  
  
It was hours later. Pippin had actually been able to move on his own, but feigned weakness, letting Legolas carry him close to the fire. He didn't want to raise any suspicions, for he already knew that his earlier words had made the others, especially the elf, nervous. But now, as usual, he was leaning against something, still trying to act as if he was still in the same shape as last night, only now it was the packs and not the elf, that supported him. He told everyone that he felt that they needed their rest, which was entirely true, and seeing they had not way to argue the logic, they had tried to make him as comfortable as possible.  
  
They needn't have, since now he was numb. Numb to pain, numb to emotion, numb to the world.  
  
He slowly looked about the camp. The dwarf was on guard, while everyone else seemed to sleep. He couldn't tell with the elf, for his eyes were always open, but they seemed to have that glazed look about them that usually meant he wasn't fully awake. Gimli had just gone on a march around the camp, to watch for any attacks. Knowing it was his best chance to escape, he silently got to his knees, then to his feet, and crept off.  
  
Holding his breath, so as not to wheeze, he quickly got out of sight of the camp. He kept walking, now allowing himself to breath but still softly. His gait was unsteady, for although he felt nothing, he still hadn't eaten or slept for days, and remained weak. After a few silent minutes of walking, he came to a small knoll, hidden amongst some high grass. He only found it because he stumbled down its lower side.  
  
Lying there, he caught what little breath he had. Then, knowing he had no other choice, he reached into his boot and pulled for the small dagger he had kept there. He hadn't used it in battle, for it was too small, and wouldn't have done any good. Also, he had wanted to show his strength to the others, to show them that wasn't going to let them fall because of him. Now, he was going to make sure that he couldn't hurt them anymore. Taking the dagger, he pressed it against his heart. Holding it there, he closed his eyes, knowing that he would feel no pain, and as he slowly pressed the blade into his chest, he tried to force his last memory to be one of happiness. As he felt the point pierce through his flesh, through his muscles, he experienced no pain, so with one final thought, thrust it deep into his chest, making sure to hit his heart, so as to assure immediate death.  
  
A/N2: The love between Merry and Pippin was written of the deep bond between brothers, erm, in this case cousins. If you wish to read beyond that, be my guest, if not, take it as it is. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Wow * humbled * I am totally stunned at the reviews I've been getting, a total power trip I must say. Thanks for alerting me that I wasn't accepting anonymous reviews, I hadn't realized that. Now, on with the story.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Returning back to camp, Gimli knew something was off, and looking around, he quickly noted the missing hobbit. His movements awoke Legolas first, but his curses soon brought the rest of the company out of their slumber quickly enough. Seeing the problem, Legolas winced as he jumped up and began to look around for any sign of the missing hobbit. He saw none, but could tell by the marks he had made what direction he had headed off in. Soon, the rest of the party, short of Boromir, who was ordered to stay behind and guard against attack, was following the hobbit's path.  
  
In the tall grasses, it was easy to follow, for the broken blades marked the way easily for the elf, even though the hobbits were at a loss. But soon enough the taller grasses spread thin, soon only found in patches. When they came across the shorter fields, they separated, hoping to find their friend. It wasn't too long before Legolas's sensitive hearing heard Aragorn's muttered curse, and the elf turned to see him tripping over a knoll. He went to turn back, when he heard the man mutter something quite different.  
  
Running to his friend, he found what had made the man suddenly so quiet. There, he found Pippin, or more so Pippin's body. It was apparent what had occurred. Aragorn was checking to see if there was any life left in the little one, but Legolas, hearing the hobbits calling, went to divert them. He couldn't bear to have them see their friend in such a state. Meeting them away from the knoll, he told them to go search further to the west. They gave him an odd look, as if knowing he was holding back something, when Sam asked where Aragorn was. "He is searching in the east, which is why you need to head west. I shall continue looking south." It made sense, since their camp was to the north, so they headed off in their respective directions. Quickly, Legolas hurried back to Aragorn. "Is he.?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head, but it was Pippin who responded bitterly, "No."  
  
The elf gasped, for he was sure that Pippin was dead. The dagger was still imbedded in his chest, surely in his heart. But here he was, talking? "How can this be?"  
  
"The damn poison, that's how." His words bitter and angry, the hobbit drew a shaky breath, but Aragorn beat him to it. "As it won't let him heal, it won't let him die. Even from such a fatal wound."  
  
Legolas looked down on the poor little one, his heart crying out. How could he have tried such a foolish thing, and how could it have denied him the peace he apparently so desperately desired. "Why Pippin?"  
  
"Because, if I live, you shall not." He lowered his head, mumbling. "The poison wasn't meant to kill me, but the rest of you. You wouldn't have been struck by that arrow, nor Merry by his, if I hadn't been rescued." He again tried to speak, but it took a moment, for his breath was still stilted. " I am the poison, the death of the Fellowship. I killed Gandalf, and now I am to be the death of you all." His voice broke, and tears began to run down his cheeks.  
  
Disturbed deeply by the immense guilt that the hobbit felt, Legolas drew him into his arms, and cradled him. He again heard the hobbits returning, but knew better than to leave Pippin. "Aragorn, go tell the to return to camp." Knowing exactly what the elf meant, he quickly went off to meet the other hobbits and the dwarf. Now Legolas returned his attention to the form in his arms.  
  
"Hush Pippin, you are not to blame for this. It easily could have been I or Aragorn who was struck by that arrow. If you hadn't warned us, we would have been taken by surprise, and quite possibly injured a great deal more, or even dead. You saved us, as Gandalf saved us, through sacrifice. I know not what you are going through, but it seems you are not meant to die, especially in such a shameful manner."  
  
Pippin, still numb to the pain, but heeding the elf's words, pulled away. "If I live, you won't."  
  
"Yes I will, and it is not your place to judge who of us shall die." The elf didn't mean it to come across so harshly, but the truth of his words seemed to break through the barrier that the hobbit had placed. To his horror, and morbid fascination, the hobbit simply grabbed the handle and pulled the dagger from his chest, not once wincing or showing pain. Looking at the blood stained blade in his hand, he spoke aloud. "I am already half dead, for I feel nothing. I only wanted to complete the course, without risking any more lives."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
Anger flared in the little hobbit. "But I did. We would never had fled in the first place, had I not been injured, and never would you have been worn and weary as you now are, if you hadn't been caring for me." His anger seemed to help him speak, so he simply hung on to that flame inside, for it was the only thing he sensed was alive in him. "I will not be responsible for any more deaths, and for the failing of the Fellowship." At this, he felt his sudden energy wane, and the weakness return. He fell to his knees once again. "I hate what I have become."  
  
Gently, so as not to startle the agitated hobbit, the elf cupped his chin. "You have not become anything, besides ill. You still are the same hobbit, the same Pippin, that we all care for. Even Gimli seems to have taken a liking to you, although that might not be a good thing." Pippin didn't smile. "Listen to me, if you keep acting the way you have been, then you will fail, and you will fall. That will bring down the fellowship, for everyone will be demoralized, seeing the darkness beat you. You are strong little one, show it. Prove that the darkness of Saruman doesn't hold sway over us. That is your duty now."  
  
Still on his knees, Pippin listened to the words, but didn't take them to heart, as the elf intended. He did understand though, that he had been selfish, and that as long as he lived, he needed to try and survive for the others, if only for the others. Bowing his head, not sure whether from shame or weariness, he could only mumble, "I understand."  
  
Knowing he could do nothing else, Legolas took the hobbit, and cleaned his chest as best he could, not having the right supplies. He then, hearing the others coming, again picked up the young one, although it wasn't necessary, and carried him to go meet the others. Pippin, for his part, lay limp in his arms, as if asleep, but both knew sleep was impossible. Seeing his their companion in the arms of the elf, the three other hobbits came running. Merry, of course, was the first to ask, "What happened? Pip, are you ok?"  
  
"He fine, young Merry. He simply walked off. It seems a side affect of the poison, but he is unhurt from his adventures." The sincerity of the elf's words, although forced, seemed enough for the rest of the company, and the fact that he had Pippin against his chest to hide the wound and blood, kept any suspicions away.  
  
Soon, they all found their way back to camp, and reassured Boromir that nothing had happened. Quietly as possible, Aragorn took Pippin away from the others to finish cleaning the wound. He found that it too was infected, but as with the other wounds, was not hurting the hobbit. "Little one, this poison works in strange ways. The fact that you feel no pain, when in fact you should be, can be looked upon as a mixed blessing. I have seen many of poison that causes great agony. I only worry about your inability to rest." He had finished dressing the wound, and covering it as best as possible without making it obvious, but the hobbit still said not a word.  
  
Sitting back on his heels, Aragorn looked Pippin in the eye. "I know not how you feel, or what you feel, but you mustn't try something as foolish as taking your own life again."  
  
Pippin did not feel like being lectured to again. "I know. But it's just that.I'm so tired, I wanted rest." He began to tremble, not exactly sure why. Then both he and the man startled when they heard a voice behind them. "Then rest."  
  
Turning, the man saw Merry behind him. He groaned silently, hoping that the other hobbit hadn't heard everything, but by the look in his eyes, he had. Knowing what done was done, he left the two hobbits.  
  
"Merry, I." Pippin was surprised, but actually felt ashamed. It was a terrible feeling, but a feeling nonetheless. He looked at Merry, not sure what was to happen between them.  
  
Merry had heard Aragorn speak of Pippin's attempt at taking his life. How could he have tried something so stupid? He knew of the other's guilt, but to have his friend, his greatest friend, try to.kill himself, it was unimaginable. He could only stare down at his Pip. "I thought you loved me?"  
  
Those words broke through, as the elf's and the man's hadn't. "But I do."  
  
"Then how could you try to do something so stupid?"  
  
"I'm tired of killing you."  
  
"You aren't killing me by living, but your death.I would want nothing more than death if you left me." Merry cried out in frustration. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed onto Pippin. "Don't think that your death will save us, it won't."  
  
"I am just so tired."  
  
"Of course you are, you are poisoned, remember? You should be dead even as we speak, but your aren't." The nature of his cousin's injury and resulting illness perplexed him as much as it did the ranger, but he wasn't ready to deal with that right now. All he saw before him was a beaten, depressed hobbit.  
  
Their kind was merry, and had lives of pleasure and ease most of the time, so seeing one so down was slightly disturbing. To hear of one trying to end his life was greatly disturbing. But they were no longer safe in the Shire, nor was there much to be happy about, and nothing easy about their mission. But still, a hobbit shouldn't fall easily to the darkness of the situation. It had to be from his wound.  
  
He lifted Pippin's head, and kissed his brow. "We care for you, and we don't want you to die. We miss our happy Pip, the one who worries about missing second breakfast, not the burdened hobbit I see before me. Pip, come back with me; let us take care of you, but don't let it go to your head and become lazy." Even Pippin had to smile at this, for the two often times were called lazy by others, which was a hard thing to beat as a hobbit.  
  
He felt somehow better. He felt, actually, and that was an improvement at least. His guilt, though still there, was dampened by the care and concern of his cousin, and now he couldn't resist the jibe. "It is not I who am lazy, Meriadoc, but you. Making poor Legolas and Aragorn care for me."  
  
Glad that his Pip seemed to be back, he chuckled. "Now, how about some of that herb tea?"  
  
Making a face, Pippin was about to protest, since he hadn't been feeling pain, but then he noticed a slight ache in his wrist. Taken slightly off guard, he looked down at the wound. Seeing the change in his cousin's eyes, Merry asked, "What is it?"  
  
Still slightly taken aback, he blinked and looked up. "My wrist.it, it hurts." Even as he spoke, he grimaced, and grabbed for chest, doubling over. "Merry, argh.help me." He fell over, and Merry, not knowing what was happening, screamed for Aragorn.  
  
Rushing as he heard the hobbit's cries, Legolas and Aragorn soon found Pippin curled upon the ground, trembling forcefully, crying, with Merry hunched over him, trying to get him to speak.  
  
"Tell me what happened." Aragorn went to the hobbit, and tried to roll him over, but found his whole body tense, being wracked as wave after wave of agony assaulted the little one's body.  
  
Merry stood, wide-eyed at what was happening. "I, I don't know. One minuet we were talking, and he seemed to be better, when I joked about that herb water, and his eyes glazed, and he said his wrist hurt, and then the just collapsed." Merry had at some point grabbed onto the still standing Legolas, and the elf wrapped his arms around him as he began to sob. "Please, please help him. He was getting better, I could see it."  
  
Listening, Aragorn heard what Merry had said, but didn't respond, as now he had wrestled the little one onto his back. Pippin was still awake, but he was gasping for air, as if drowning, and clutched at his chest. His eyes were clenched shut, but even as he watched, trying to get the hand away so he could see to the wound, the hobbit cried out and his eyes shot open. The man grunted, "Legolas, help me."  
  
Legolas let go of Merry, and tried to get the hobbit to stop struggling. In as much pain as he was, Pippin seemed much stronger, and his resistance actually made the elf strain, but soon be had his arms pinned, still careful of his wrist, and Aragorn was pulling off the hobbit's tunic. What he saw disgusted him. Both wounds, arrow and dagger, had festered, and even now the flesh seemed to by decaying. He had known the wounds had not been healing, and that infection had set in, but nothing should cause such rot so quickly. Out of the wounds ran a blackish, bloody fluid. It was almost as if it was draining out of him.  
  
Seeing what the man was, Legolas quickly checked the wrist he had now pinned, and found that it too was in a similar state, and by the darkening earth underneath the hobbit, he assumed his back wound to be the same. Pippin cried out again, a guttural scream that echoed through the plains.  
  
Having heard Merry's cries for help, the rest of the fellowship set out after the rushing man and elf. The sight they came upon was devastating.  
  
Sam and Frodo froze, as they saw Pippin being forced down by the man and elf, and seeing them, Merry quickly ran over, sobbing. Frodo took him into his arms, and the three stood there, fearful of what was happening.  
  
Gimli and Boromir though, quickly ran to their fallen friend, ready to offer assistance. Seeing the dwarf besides him, Legolas ordered him to go get Aragorn's pack and bring back the bandages and water. Nodding, Gimli ran off.  
  
Boromir looked on, helpless. "What can I do?"  
  
"Go to the others, make sure they don't come closer." Still feeling helpless, but with nothing better in mind, the man went to the three huddled hobbits and tried to console them. Merry still sobbed, and Sam held him close, crying also. Frodo did not cry, but his pale face was frozen in a state of horror. And guilt. He still feels responsible. Boromir gazed worriedly at the three small forms. As he knelt before them, trying to comfort them, he noticed the dwarf running by with the needed supplies.  
  
Seeing that neither man nor elf had a free hand, Gimli remained besides them, to give them what they needed. On the ground, Pippin, eyes wide open, writhed in pain, his mouth agape, trying to breath. It sickened Gimli to see such a good being in such agony. He had certainly seen death and disease in his lifetime, but never had he seen such suffering. It seemed as if every time he managed to breath, more of the viscous fluid would ooze from his body.  
  
"Aragorn, what is happening?"  
  
"I do not know." He still held down the hobbit, who had yet to stop struggling. He grabbed more cloth from the dwarf, trying to staunch the flow from the wounds, as did Legolas, but it kept coming. He was sure it was blood, and to loose such large amounts so quickly would have to be the death of the hobbit, but he had already survived three mortal wounds, without death. But now, it seemed that Pippin was truly dying.  
  
This is not the way he is to die Aragorn's mind screamed. Such bravery as the little one had shown was far from easily found, and such a painful death, useless death, was not befitting, or fair. He knew not what to do, for the hobbit seemed beyond any healing, his life literally being drained agonizingly from his body. He was going to die.  
  
Legolas seemed to have come to the same horrific conclusion, for now, although he still held the little one down, he began to stroke his forehead, speaking in soft tones, trying to sooth his pain. It seemed to help little, but enough that Pippin's eyes closed against the pain. Then both figures felt the hobbit take a shuddering breath, and saw him trying to speak. It pained them both, and they tried to keep him quiet, but still stubborn, he called out, "Merry!" At his strangled cry, both man, dwarf, and elf witnessed a ghastly expulsion of fluids from every one of the hobbit's wounds, and it seemed as if life had finally left the tortured body.  
  
Still in Sam's arms, the hobbit heard his friend's agonizing call, and broke free, running to his side. He found there Pippin's still form, covered with blood and gore. He cried, "No." Falling to his knees, he took into his hand Pippin's and pressed it to his mouth, crying no over and over again.  
  
Tbc I promise ^_~ 


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6  
  
The elf felt his heart clench, as that last bit of life was ripped forth from the hobbit's body. Such pain and suffering should never have to be endured, especially by one so young and innocent. He felt tears in his eyes, and looking over at Aragorn, saw that his cheeks were glistening. For one so strong, the man felt deeply, and such a death devastated him. As it would them all. Again his attention was brought to the anguished hobbit holding onto Pippin's hand. "Oh Pip, my dear Pip."  
  
No longer having to hold down the struggling hobbit, Legolas tried to sooth Merry, but the hobbit violently ripped his arm free of the elf's gentle grasp. His voice horse and dark, he screamed at the elf to let him be.  
  
Quickly blocking the pain that such words caused, he froze, until Aragorn, who was now standing, lifted him up by the arm. "Come."  
  
Numb, Gimli followed the two forms. He couldn't believe that after all the little one had been through, that now he died. And such a horrid death it was, Gimli closed his eyes against the sight of the two hobbits, one dead, the other wishing death.  
  
The three had now reached the others, and it was obvious that they all knew the truth. Sam was crying, and Frodo looked to have already cried, but now, his face blank, went to walk to Pippin and Merry. Boromir went to stop him, but the dangerous look that flashed through the ring bearer's eyes halted him. Of course he too was suffering, they all were. It wasn't his place to choose how they all grieved. Sam, for once not minding being away from his master, looked to Boromir with such pain in his expression that the man felt as if his heart would break in two. He looked down at the hobbit before him, but then saw Pippin's still body, and felt his anger rise, and stormed off.  
  
Legolas saw how alone Sam looked, so he went to him and knelt down, letting the hobbit cry into his shoulder. He ignored the twinge in his side, for he knew that now was not the time to care for his wound. He did however put his hand to his side, so check for bleeding, and immediately hissed. Sam noticed, and pulling away, gave the elf an odd look. "What is wrong Legolas?"  
  
Taken by surprise at the pain he felt, he quickly pulled his hand away from underneath his tunic, and found that his blood now mixed with that of Pippin's. Why would my wound feel such as this, and why does it now bleed again? "It is nothing Sam."  
  
"No, I heard you, and you winced. Is your side still bothering you?"  
  
Hearing the two talk, Aragorn grew concerned, for the elf's ability to heal should have taken care of any pain a long time ago. He went over to them. "Legolas?"  
  
Knowing he had been caught, the elf sighed. "I am not sure, but when I touched the wound, it reopened, and began to burn. I am sure tis nothing."  
  
"Let me see it." He went to push the elf's hand away, when he noticed the dry blood. Pippin's blood. "Legolas, you felt your wound with the same hand that had the blood from Pippin's wrist wound on it, didn't you."  
  
Not sure where the man was going, the elf nodded. "Well, yes, but." Understanding then entered the elf's gaze. "You don't think."  
  
Trying not to seem hopeful, for if he was wrong, it would make Pippin's death all the more painful, he simply nodded. Quickly the two got up and went over to Merry and Frodo. Merry still knelt by his fallen cousin, holding his hand, and Frodo stood over Merry, rubbing the other's back, a dead look in his eye. He looked up when he noticed the others coming towards them.  
  
He went to intercept them. "Can't you just leave them alone?" The resignation in his voice surprised even Frodo, but the two looked at him. Legolas spoke first. "We need to see to Pippin, Frodo. Please."  
  
Not sure what to make of their behavior, he let them pass, but quickly followed. Soon Merry was joined by the two. "Frodo, please take Merry, we."  
  
"No."  
  
Aragorn gazed hard at Frodo, not needing any such attitude. "Frodo, you must."  
  
"No."  
  
Before he could speak again, Legolas laid a hand upon his arm. "Frodo, you and Merry can stay, but let us work."  
  
"What work, he's dead." Merry spoke from Pippin's side. He raised his head, glaring at the two. "What work could you possibly have to do? Leave him be."  
  
Taking offense at the hobbit's cold words, Legolas was about to respond with Frodo placed a hand on Merry's shoulder. "No, they know what they are doing Merry. We best let them do what they must." He pulled at the other hobbit, but both only moved out of the way. Merry still held onto Pippin's hand.  
  
Sighing, Aragorn hoped that his suspicions were correct. If not, then the hobbit was really dead, and the fellowship would have lost it's youngest and oldest. He and the elf quickly looked upon the hobbit.  
  
Pippin's body still seemed to be draining out that nasty fluid from it's wounds, but neither were looking at the wounds, so much as the rest of his body. The angry, red lines that traced vicious patterns around his body remained. But, it seemed that they had grown lighter. Still holding out against hope, Aragorn went to turn the form over, but paused when Merry began to say something. Frodo kept him still though, so the man soon had the hobbit's body overturned. There, he saw exactly what he was hoping for. "Legolas, look." Still they spoke in elvish.  
  
What the elf saw brought a very peculiar expression to his face. "It is so then."  
  
"Yes." The two shared a look, and then set to dressing the hobbit's still oozing wounds, placing leaves of some sort over them.  
  
"What are they doing Frodo?" Merry had let go of Pippin's hand, so as to let them turn him over, and now found himself in Frodo's arms. He felt safer, but his heart felt as if it had been torn from his chest.  
  
"I do not know." He honestly wasn't sure, but seeing the two healers look at each other and speak the way the had, he didn't want to even entertain the thoughts that came into his head. No, he's dead, he couldn't have possible survived it all. Yet the slight glimmer he saw in the elf's eyes told him differently. "Merry, will you be ok with Sam? I need to talk with Aragorn and Legolas."  
  
Numb, and seeing no point, the other hobbit moved off, so that he and Sam could grieve together. Once he had gone, Frodo went to the man's side. "He isn't dead, or is he?"  
  
Hearing the voice besides him, the man jerkily looked up, caught off guard. Finding Frodo, he again wished that night that the hobbits weren't so clever. Legolas spoke first. "We don't know yet. Tis only a hope."  
  
"Then hope we shall." Such strong words from such a strong being, Aragorn had to smile. "Yes, we shall, but not them. Do not tell them, for it they had him die twice in a single night, I'm not sure how they would react."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Glad for the understanding tone he heard, he began to explain to the hobbit. "Frodo, we are not sure, but we believe that this fluid, this ooze, is actually the body's way of ridding itself of the poison. Pippin is dead, but if this poison is gone from his system, we don't know whether he might come back to us. He's been through so much." In his pause, Legolas picked up. "He has been through much, any one of his injuries could and should have killed him. But it seems that the poison was meant to torture him, in mind and soul more than in body. But, without it's poison, his body should revive as it would after such injuries."  
  
"But what are those leave you have covered his wounds with, and what is that second one on his chest?"  
  
Wincing, the elf remembered that Frodo had not known of Pippin's suicide attempt, but it was too late now. "The leaves will draw out the poison quicker, the second wound, it was sustained in that battle."  
  
The man looked up at the elf in surprise, for they were not a kind to lie easily, but here his friend was telling a perfectly believable lie, and well. He guessed it wasn't their place to spill Pippin's secret, but still, to have an elf lie. It was a night of surprises to say the least.  
  
But even though believable, Frodo was clever, very clever and seemed to understand that he wasn't telling the whole truth, but let it be. If they needed to tell him, then they would. "So that fluid from his wounds isn't just blood?"  
  
"No, its mostly poison. We figured that out when Legolas." Remembering, he looked up at the elf, and saw that although silent, the elf was hunched over. Seeing the man's gaze, he shook his head. "I will be fine." Turning to Frodo's worried stare, he repeated, "I'm fine, I simply got some of the toxins on my skin."  
  
"Your wound you mean."  
  
He gave the hobbit a wry smile, but only repeated his previous answer.  
  
Aragorn wasn't about to let the matter drop though. "Legolas, there is nothing more we can do for Pippin. If he comes around he will, if not.I don't need you falling ill on me. Now, how is your side?" He went over to the elf, and two glared at each other, neither wanting to back down. Frodo was the one who broke their stare. "We don't need you to become ill Legolas, just make sure you're side is healing as it should."  
  
A triumphant smile lit the man's face, while a sour look passed over the elf. He didn't say a word as his lifted his tunic so that the two could check. The man's smile quickly faded. "Legolas, how do you feel?"  
  
A bit surprised at the man's tone, he looked down as saw that it had indeed not stopped bleeding. But that is impossible. He saw Frodo's gaze, and said, "I feel fine. Sore, but fine. It will heal."  
  
"But it should have stopped bleeding my friend."  
  
"It had, until I placed my hand against it. The poison along with the running probably just reopened it."  
  
"Legolas, look."  
  
Raising a brow, he looked down again, and when the man lifted the tunic higher, he saw that some of the poison was spreading out in their lines. "Well, that's not good."  
  
Such a blatant comment by the elf made the man give him a look. "Legolas, I."  
  
The worry in the man's eyes made the elf regret even bringing up the injury again, but he guessed that they had had to. "I will be fine, I don't feel any worse off." That again was a blatant lie, for even now he felt his strength waning, but even as the man was about to speak, the elf thought he caught some motion behind him. Pushing the startled man out of his way, he leaned over Pippin's form. "Pippin?"  
  
Not getting any response, he placed his hand against the hobbit's chest, and to his utter amazement, he felt a beat. Aragorn now crouched on the other side of the hobbit, with Frodo behind him. Aragorn put two fingers against the little one's neck, and after a few moments, felt a slow, thready pulse. I can't believe it  
  
Even as the three watched, Pippin's still form began to regain some of its color, as his heart again began to beat. Frodo wasn't sure if he was seeing what he thought he was, but then looking at the other two faced, he knew he was right. "He is coming back?"  
  
"Yes, for now, but you must remember how injured he really is. Now, without the poison, his body is going to react, as it should to such wounds. We'll have to keep any eye on him yet, for he is far from being safe from losing his life." Aragorn's dark words had little effect on the hobbit's heart, for he again had his friend back. Nodding to the man, Legolas got up to go let the other's know. He found himself right back sitting on the ground.  
  
Alarmed, Aragorn returned to his side, for loss of balance was serious for an elf. "What happened?"  
  
Slightly confused as to why he now found himself back on the ground, he gave the man a dazed, yet wholly sardonic, look. "It seems I fell over."  
  
Having had just about enough of the elf by now, Aragorn just glared and held his tongue, reaching out to help the elf up. Legolas, proud as ever, refused the hand, and got up on his own. "Don't make a scene Aragorn. We know I will live."  
  
"The hobbit lived, yes, but you are an elf. We don't know for sure."  
  
Frodo, having seen the elf fall, was surprised, but now the two seemed to be fighting, if quietly, in elvish, so he assumed that he must be ok. He knelt down besides Pippin. Grabbing his hand, he felt some heat had returned to the still fingers. "Well Pippin, it seems you have been stubborn again. Now don't go leaving me, us, Merry. We all need you." As he said those words, the two standing forms silenced themselves, and feeling guilty for ignoring the others, turned to find Frodo besides Pippin, much as Merry had been earlier. Even as they watched, they could see Pippin's body begin to show more signs of life.  
  
The elf turned to the man. "He was lost to us for a long time Aragorn, let us hope no other ills have befallen him."  
  
Knowing that prolonged deaths caused other effects, the man nodded. "But I don't believe any will, for his death was unnatural."  
  
"All deaths are unnatural.'  
  
Rolling his eyes, he simply dragged the elf away, to go find the others. As expected, they were back in camp. Sam and Merry had seemed to stop crying, but neither fared well. Boromir had yet to return, and Gimli had been left trying to ready everything and console the other two. Legolas could see though that the dwarf was hurting as much from Pippin's "death" as he had though, so he went over to the dwarf to tell him the news, while Aragorn went to the hobbits.  
  
"Gimli, he lives."  
  
Not quite understanding, or not wanting to hope, he looked at the elf. "What did you say?"  
  
Smiling at the dwarf's apparent confusion, he repeated himself. "Pippin lives. He has returned to us."  
  
Stunned, Gimli couldn't believe his ears, but he knew the elf would never play such a cruel joke. Sure, they would annoy one another, but never over something this serious. Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed onto the elf in his happiness. He let go immediately, as he felt the elf stiffen and stifle a gasp. The elf fell to a knee, and held onto his side, trying not to pass out. Seeing what had happened, the others rushed over.  
  
Merry was the first to ask. "What happened?"  
  
Taken aback, Gimli gazed at the elf before him. "I think I aggravated his side wound. But I had assumed he had healed, as elves do."  
  
Knelt by the still gasping elf, Aragorn addressed the dwarf. "It is not your fault, for it had healed, but our foolish elf here," he paused as the elf, even though in pain, managed to glare at him, "neglected to tell us that it had reopened."  
  
"Stupid elf." He wasn't angry, but worried.  
  
"Dumb dwarf." The elf gasped out.  
  
Hearing that, Aragorn realized his friend was going to be fine, he had to shake his head at the two's antics. But Sam didn't seem relieved. "Are you ok Legolas?"  
  
By this point the elf had regained is breath. "I shall be fine. Do not worry yourself." Merry did not agree. "You don't look fine Legolas, why did it reopen?"  
  
It has to be a record was the only thought that crossed the man's mind. He only gave a look at the elf, apologizing, but he had to tell them. He had already alerted the two to Pippin's status, and they had been returning to him when they had seen the elf drop. "He got some of the poison from Pippin's wound into his."  
  
Boromir had chosen that moment to return. "Is he poisoned?"  
  
Startled, everyone turned around, except the elf, who had noticed the man earlier, but had been unable to say a thing. Aragorn took his hand from the hilt of his sword, and filled the man in. Legolas saw that he was pleased to hear of Pippin's recovery, but concerned over the elf's state. "How badly has it affected you Legolas?"  
  
The elf shrugged. By now he felt much better, but was too embarrassed by his weakness to really talk about it. Instead he changed topics. "Let us return to the others, for we still are not out of danger."  
  
Giving up on getting the elf to settle, Aragorn and Boromir shared a look, and hefted the elf up before he could protest. The look on his face was worth it. Such indignation was found, that both he and Boromir broke out laughing.  
  
.tbc. 


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7  
  
The irritated elf led the rest of the amused company back to find, to all of their surprise, a smiling Frodo. Despite his smile though, Frodo turned a concerned gaze towards the elf. "Are you alright Legolas?"  
  
Having had enough, but still touched by the little one's worry, he gave a weak smile. "Do not worry, I shall heal." He knew it was true, he simply didn't know how long it would take, now that he had the poisons running through his body. They could only wait and see. "How fare's our Pippin?"  
  
Merry answered. "Better, much better." As soon as he had seen Frodo, he had run to join his friend by his cousin. "Even his breathing seems to have eased, come and see." Doing just that, Legolas and the rest came forward and crowded around the still unconscious form. The elf found that indeed, the little one's breathing seemed slightly less labored. But neither his lung nor the other wounds seemed any better. With the poison now gone, the angry lines had faded and had drawn back away from his heart to where the initial wounds lied. Without the poison running though his system, the sturdy hobbit's body should be able to heal itself.  
  
Seemingly following the elf's train of thought, they all heard Pippin's slight groan, and his face wrinkled in pain. Now would come the time to see if he would survive the ordeal. Merry, seeing his friend beginning to awaken, leaned back over him. "Pippin, oh Pip, can you hear me?"  
  
Not receiving any response besides more groans, Merry sent a panicked look at the elf. "What's wrong, why doesn't he awaken."  
  
The elf, busy looking over the hobbit, left it to Aragorn to answer. "Merry, you must realize how injured he really is. The only reason it wasn't bothering him before was because the poison blocked his pain. But now, his system is free, and his wounds are going to behave as they should have, when initially inflicted." He hated talking about such dark things, but it was better to be prepared and know the truth if Pippin indeed did die. And that was still a very large possibility. Even now, in his unconsciousness, the hobbit seemed to be in great pain. Not wanting to face Merry, he instead went to the elf's side, to see if he could help.  
  
"Is he still under the poison's control?" He felt his heart drop.  
  
"From what I can tell, no." The elf kept his face calm. "I believe, if he receives enough rest and peace, and time, he will heal. But he has been in such a horrid state for so many days, that his body's strength is gone. We can now only hope that his spirit remains strong enough to pull him through."  
  
Not needing to say anything, both elf and man looked down upon Merry, holding Pippin's limp hand, speaking softly into his silent ear.  
  
Come on Pippin, I know you have the strength. For some reason, Aragorn knew that the little one would pull through. The simple fact that he should be thrice dead didn't make him think any differently. From his experience on this journey, all four of the hobbits had shone that even if not particularly brave, they had in them some of the fiercest loyalty. With Merry at his side, Sam and Frodo not much farther away, and the rest of the company as near as possible, Aragorn knew that Pippin would have a hard time abandoning such friends.  
  
His attention was drawn away, when he noticed the elf stiffen. Glancing to his side, he found the elf's face drawn taut, and his eyes closed. Wondering how much his wound was actually paining him, he began to protest as the elf walked off, but thought better of it. If the elf needed time, he would get it. Without trees about, he wouldn't be able to disappear as easily, but he knew that if Legolas didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Returning his gaze to the rest of their group, it was decided that they would remain in their camp, for it seemed relatively safe, to let everyone recover. Boromir now picked up Pippin, and they all found themselves back in their camp, and within a few minuets, had Sam cooking up a good breakfast. The night had been long and full of turmoil, and they needed their rest, so after setting up watches, the group lied down.  
  
Aragorn took first watch. The hobbits, now somewhat satisfied from their meal, and their hearts eased by the fact that their friend seemed to be recovering, rested together. Gimli was off alone, as was Boromir. Legolas had yet to return. Under the light of day, sleep was not easy to come by, but they managed, simply due to their extreme exhaustion. The sun, having broke through the ominous clouds of the night, was now rising in the sky, heating the cool ground. It was to be a pleasant day, and Aragorn found it a bit amusing that the weather reflected their spirits.  
  
After a few hours, he went to wake Gimli, to take over his watch. The elf had yet to return, and telling Gimli this, he decided to forgo his sleep, at least until he could check on the elf. That was, if he could find him. He walked away from the camp, heading in the direction he assumed the elf had gone. His instincts, as usual, were correct.  
  
Sitting besides the knoll where they had found Pippin's body, he now found the elf, simply sitting in silence. Aragorn was sure that he missed his home, and fields such as these, though full of nature, were not the trees of his home. Still, it seemed that the elf was resting, so Aragorn turned to leave him peace, when the elf spoke up. "Do you need my assistance?"  
  
Keeping his back turned, the man decided to return to camp. "No, I was just, scouting, for my watch is near done." It was a feasible truth, but if he knew his friend, he knew that it would be seen right through. He was right, as usual.  
  
"No, you were looking for me. I'm sorry that I left in such a state, but for some reason I could not stay." Now he lifted his head to meet the man's gaze. He returned the piercing gaze in kind. "I know that you feel the same. He scared you, as he did I, but he will pull through. You know as well as I that his strength lies not in body, but in heart."  
  
Taken slightly aback by the elf's sudden words, Aragorn stood still. The elf continued a bit more lightheartedly. "Come over here, I'm not poisonous."  
  
Smirking at the elf's well-chosen words, the man went and sat besides his friend. He sobered quickly when he got a good look at Legolas. The elf's face was always pale, but now it lacked that inner light. The pain seemed to have dimmed his elven glow, which was noticeable even in the daylight. He kept still, moving as little as possible, and his breaths were shallow. His eyes though were what betrayed his true pain, for in them Aragorn could see a tumult of emotions raging. Not only from his injury, but also from the ordeal he had been recently put through, not to mention their entire situation. Elves were prideful beings, and rarely showed their emotions, but sitting besides his friend, Legolas let down his barriers, and let the man see what he had been raised to hide. As future ruler, it was not proper to allow emotions to sway decisions, as such was seen folly, and could prove dangerous. But for this one brief moment, he was free of his duties, thus free to share his feelings. Still though, he was an elf, and by nature, not one to be open about his emotions.  
  
Aragorn could see that the elf was hurting, but that his pride wasn't allowing him to show, so he tried to help him out, starting with an obvious source of the pain. "How does your injury fare?"  
  
Fully aware of the man's intentions, he was grateful, and decided to respond in kind. "The wound itself is not in the greatest condition, but now I know how to rid myself of the poison, and have been doing so."  
  
For the second time he was taken aback by the elf's words, but this time they also angered him. "Legolas, you can't risk yourself doing this alone. You saw how close Pippin came to death, he actually did die, in a way, and he was amongst friends. We don't even know if it will have the same affect on you as it did on the hobbit. You can't expect to heal alone Legolas, at least not in this case."  
  
Done with his rant, he looked upon the elf. He had to ask. "Has it worked?"  
  
Grimacing a bit, the elf looked up. "Yes, a bit."  
  
"Let me check."  
  
"No, I'll be fine in a few hours." He pulled away.  
  
This could be fun the man thought to himself. "No, I shall not leave you until I check and see."  
  
"I can take care of myself."  
  
"Sure you can, in normal circumstances, but not now, not here, alone, poisoned." He quickly grabbed the elf, so he couldn't escape. He felt bad for taking advantage of his friend's weakened state, but not bad enough to let him risk injuring himself more. "Now, let me check it Legolas." His voice took a stern tone, and the elf, not feeling at all up to fighting off the strong man, finally gave in. He lifted his tunic aside and pulled away the leaves he had placed there. The man hissed. "Legolas."  
  
The elf refused to look at his friend's eyes. He knew the wound looked bad, even he had been surprised at how quickly the poison had decayed the tissue, but he also knew that Pippin had been able to rid his body of the toxins, as would he. Also, he had started within a few hours of being infected, and had hoped it wouldn't spread so quickly. He had been wrong.  
  
"Heavens Legolas, this is worse than Pippin's. Are you sure that what you are doing is helping?"  
  
"No, but it's all there is." He was too tired to resist any longer, "Aragorn, I can feel the evil of it. It seems to enjoy destroying anything good that my heart holds." He placed his slim hand over his chest. "I'm cold, Aragorn." Shamed at his words, the elf no longer wished his friend to remain with him.  
  
Worried at his friend's words, along with his wound, the man looked into the elf's eyes and saw only a dim shadow. "Does it pain you?"  
  
"Yes. I seem to have yet become numb, as Pippin."  
  
"How lucky." Not really realizing his sarcastic comment to have been made aloud, he kept searching his friend's face. The elf, for his part, managed not to wince as the man continued to probe his wound, but his pain was apparent. As was his weariness. "Legolas, neither you nor I know the exact nature of the poison, how could you be sure you would heal the same as our hobbit friend. Elves are much more fragile when it comes to their souls, even more so than hobbits."  
  
He had hoped for some angry retort, knowing how much his friend prided himself on his strength, but he received none. He only sensed his friend's inner anguish deepen. Nice move he berated himself. Stopping his ministrations, he took the elf's hand, which still was placed on his heart, into his. "My friend, even Pippin needed his friends near by to fight off his illness. There is strength in numbers."  
  
"I know, but it is not right for me to bring any more problems to our already restless company. Tis selfish, and I will not be so inconsiderate, no matter what state I am in." He glared at the man, daring him to disagree.  
  
"You aren't a problem, listen to me." He grasped the elf's slim fingers tighter. "Listen to me. You're starting to sound like Pippin, so I know that you know not what you are speaking of. It's something to do with the nature of the poison, Legolas, these dark thoughts you harbor." By the slight tensing, he figured he had guessed correctly. He rushed onwards. "Don't you dare even entertain a single notion of killing yourself, to help the fellowship. You have brought a light to our lonely group in the darkest of times, my friend. If you were to abandon us, I know not how long out fellowship would last."  
  
The elf remained still, thinking. He realized his friend spoke truth, but he couldn't shake the immense weight of guilt that had recently descended upon him. It confused him as to where this guilt came from, but the presence in front of him, the warm strength around his hand, held his thoughts from plunging into the dark waters of his inner turmoil.  
  
In those fingers, wrapped around his, he felt such strength and compassion that he let his eyes wander to the man's. What he saw could not be described in words alone. They man's eyes were clear, as if made of the purest waters, and for the first time in their long friendship, Legolas was allowed to truly see the soul behind the warrior. It humbled him, the fact that the man would allow such intimacy. He had always known that Aragorn was a great spirit, and had seen the man's inner beauty on many occasions, although Legolas doubted the man was aware of his secret being known. But Legolas knew. Aragorn loved. He loved that which was right and those who were righteous. He cared deeply for those who cared naught for him, and carried many of their burdens upon his shoulders, without complaint, and without redemption. It was that inner passion that Legolas saw now in the man's eyes. It was not unlike the fire which Legolas had come to realize fueled many a warrior in battle.  
  
Except, that passion was now not directed towards and enemy, but rather a friend, a close, and dear friend. Aragorn knew, as he steadily met the elf's gaze, that he had let his guard down, but he didn't care. For that slight moment, he didn't care if he seemed weak. He was to worried over Legolas' situation, for an elf's inner spark of life should never be taken away so quickly, or so insidiously. He never had heard of an elf committing suicide. Their kind treasured life and considered all nature to be sacred. Taking one's own life was a direct desecration of such beliefs, and Aragorn could only find blame in the poison for his friend's current reasoning. Those clear eyes, usually so bright, remained dull and clouded with pain and confusion. I'm sure such foreign feelings and thoughts are confusing to him. He had always considered Legolas to be one of the greater models for the elven way of life; the graceful dignity he always carried, the simple composure he held, no matter the situation. The embracing compassion for all light and good in the world. He was strong, but his skills lie not so much in the physical, but in the strength of will. As a friend, he would not allow the elf to stand alone against a foe which neither fully understood.  
  
The moment between the two, the shared link, where both studied and saw in each other the same strengths and weaknesses, long suspected but never proven, was broken suddenly when Legolas took a sudden, shuddering breath, and doubled over. He gasped as his hand tightened in a death grip around Aragorn's. "Aragorn, it's working," is all the managed before he was too overcome to even think straight.  
  
The man recognized the symptoms of the body's ridding itself of the poison, but it made it no easier to watch or endure. The elf's eyes were clenched shut, and tears, those precious drops that were practically never shed, ran down his pale, drawn cheeks. Aragorn, still holding onto his friend's hand, tried to comfort the ailing elf, but at the whimpers quickly went to kneel besides the hunched form.  
  
The wound in his side began to flush out its infection and sooner than expected, the elf's shuddering, tense form went limp. Catching the elf's body before it collapsed to the ground, he cradled the elf within the his protective embrace, startled when Legolas' body felt like air itself. Aragorn's heart stopped when he felt the breath leave his friend's body, and for a moment he began to panic that indeed his elf friend had not survived the ordeal, but as he bent his head to look at the pale face, he seemed to see a slight flush returning, and thought he could feel a heart beat. After a few moments, the elf's eyes gently opened again. Aragorn could tell that now his friend was truly asleep, and not unconscious.  
  
"Rest my prince, rest." So he stayed, laying back against the knoll, his friend in his arms, asleep, and he slowly drifted into dreamless sleep.  
  
It was Frodo who found them, while on his watch. Worried, he had went around, but when he came upon their slumbering forms, he paused, silent. His heart gladdened as he looked upon them, for their faces were relaxed, their expressions peaceful, relaxed. The hobbit then left them, knowing they would be safe, even when asleep. Returning to camp, his swept his gaze over the other members of the fellowship. Merry and Pippin were lying together, fast asleep, their hands clasped together. Boromir and Gimli slept alone, but even though both kept their weapons nearby, neither seemed tense. Sam was the only one who seemed fitful, but Frodo knew that was because he no longer was besides his dear friend.  
  
Sighing, he looked towards the south. That was where they were headed, that land of darkness, but for some reason, he didn't sense that usual foreboding. As he returned his gaze to the west, he looked over the camp and at the sunset. These others were his protectors, his friends, and he would not fail them. If some tragedy should occur, and they should fall, as Gandalf, then he would not fail their memories, their spirit. The spirit of the fellowship would live on. Soon they would be heading again towards that land of evil. But for now, they rested, and that was enough.  
  
Looking down once again, he saw that Sam watched him. With a slight smile, he returned to his friend's side, and sat. Night would fall, they would continue their travels, and the fate of Middle Earth would be decided.  
  
.The End.  
  
A/N: I hope you liked this. I wrote it about two years ago, and had actually forgotten how it had ended.I had to re-read it after I posted the first few chapters. * sheepish * All reviews have been wonderful, I hope you all enjoyed! I'll post more of my fiction later, along with editing my previous posting of Tears. 


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